A spell hits Batman, and a magical letter is left to explain what is happening, but it’s in a different language
All they know is that there’s a zero floating above Bruce’s head
Everyone but him can see it, so they think it’s best if they don’t say anything and figure it out themselves
Through some shitty translating, they are under the understanding that the note says: “the number of people you love will show.”
They are livid, which is, of course, just a mask for being hurt and devastated, and without explaining anything to him, they start being horrible
Bruce has no idea what’s happened, and he’s trying to make up for it (which is a hard thing to do when you don't know what you're making up for), but anything he does makes them treat him even worse
They don't want to fall back into loving his kindness. Either Damian gets taken by Dick, and Bruce is beyond devastated, or Damian is aggressive to Bruce and purposely avoids him. Bruce is drowning in self-hatred and isolates himself because of the wrongful treatment
Eventually, Zatanna is able to come over and attempt fix it
She asks for the note to know what she's dealing with and correctly translates it to: “the number of people you believe love you will show.”
Now they have to deal with what they’ve done and realize they were completely unfounded in what they did
That number ain’t going up anytime soon
Oh, but the pain afterward, so delicious. Something like...
Jason spoke first, his face taut, his anger barely contained.
"Read it again. There must be a mistake."
Zatanna didn't flinch. She merely raised an eyebrow. "I've only been studying this language for over thirty years, Hood. Of course, let's assume I'm wrong, not the newbies who know nothing about magic."
Newbie hit harder than she thought. Jason was about to respond, but Dick stopped him with a wave of his hand.
Jason was ready to yell at him when he saw how deathly pale his brother was. Dick looked like he was about to throw up.
"Hey, you're not going to believe this shit, are you? It's obviously not..."
"I took Damian away from him," Dick interrupted, not even looking at him, his breath coming in short gasps. "I told him he's a terrible man. I called him...a manwhore who can't take responsibility. And I was glad to see him suffer...I thought he deserved it..."
Dick put his hands to his face and groaned, "God, I was glad I made my..."
He didn't finish the sentence. But Jason knew what he was going to say. My dad.
But Dick couldn't say it, he couldn't. Not when he felt unworthy of using the word, not after everything that had happened.
Zatanna showed no sympathy. "Did you really think the number indicated the people he loved? Really?"
"Hey, you don't know mister feelings are an obstacle to the mission..."
"You are right, I'm just a childhood friend, ex-lover, and now friend of the League, but go ahead, Hood, I'm all ears," if looks could kill, Jason would be dead again, "Bruce is like a brother to me. I know him like I know myself. And that man has a damn bleeding heart and too much love inside him."
"And yet, there's no number to prove it," Jason repeated petulantly.
The sorceress's expression turned sad. "It's hard to convince someone they're loved when they're being punished for everything, don't you think?"
Jason was about to call out her bullshit, but Dick muttered, "We proved his point..."
Jason looked at him, Dick continued, "We proved him the damn point, that we didn't love him. God, the things we did to him... all of us... we fucking abandoned him."
"You're exaggerating..."
"Jason, what do you call isolating someone from their...from their family, from their life, throwing so much shit at them that a lot of the hero community now isolates Batman? We...ostracized him to the point that...that Tim was about to take the WE from him out of spite. He couldn't do it just because Lucius stopped him and... who the hell would do something like that?"
"Horrible people," Zatanna replied, oblivious to Dick's complete meltdown, "Selfish, wicked people who assume the worst and are just waiting to unleash some kind of holy vendetta to make themselves feel good. You assumed the translation because it was something you all thought deep down, without even waiting for a damn expert. You just needed an excuse to... well, do what you usually do."
Jason snorted, "What we usually do? We're not like that..."
Zatanna interrupted, "Aren't you? You're the one talking? Who planted a bomb under his car? Who tried to force him to kill after months of terrible, near-breaking moments, not caring about the consequences? Who wanted to destroy him for the twisted proof that he was loved?"
Jason had never felt so naked in his life. "I... I was right..."
"You were right? Is that how you justify your shit? Are you surprised Bruce thinks he's unloved? You've been giving him hell for years, and you've never apologized. You continie blaming him for what you did. Dick, for example. How many times have you said Bruce turned you into his soldier, when you were the one pretending to be Robin, the one trying to kill a damned mafia boss? He wanted to save you... he wanted to save all of you. And this is the result. Nothing. You can't teach an old dog new tricks."
Dick wanted to protest. He wanted to say they loved Bruce, they were grateful for what he'd done for them. But the words wouldn't come out, they tasted like ash in his mouth. He couldn't say it.
Because he knew they were lies. You don't do this to someone you love. You don't abuse them out of a twisted sense of justice, thinking you were right.
Everything they'd done, they'd done under the guise of "I'm better than you."
It was so fucking wrong. They'd...he'd...God, what had he done?
"What can we do?" he croaked, not trusting his voice, "I'll talk to the others and explain what happened..."
"What, so you can go back to normal and pretend it never happened? Make him wonder what he did wrong?"
"No, to...to make up for it..."
Zatanna frowned. "And why would you do that, Dick? To see the numbers increase? For vanity? And when the spell lifts, will you go back to the way you were before? Treating him like shit, isolating him, going to him when you need him, yelling at him for being too present, slut-shaming him?"
She moved closer, face to face with Dick, smelling of ozone and sulfur, bluish skin, eyes like burning embers. "I've seen this before, and I don't like how it ends. There's always going to be something else, some other misunderstanding, some other excuse to hurt him. Can you promise it won't happen again? Can you?"
Neither Dick nor Jason spoke. They knew they couldn't do it.
And judging by Zatanna's expression, she knew it too.
Just kill me, why don’t you















